Beyond The Fence
by misshastix
Summary: Santana Lopez risks her own life for the sake of her elderly father as war approaches. On the other side of the country, the General's son is slain and his twin sister, Brittany Pierce, decides to take his place in order to exact revenge. Only after they fall in love do they realise they are fighting for opposite sides.
1. Who We Are

The sun shone in through the wooden framed window, revealing a silhouette lying lightly on a white sheet bed. The figure tossed sideways, her raven black hair sprawled carelessly over her pillowcase.

She wore a white nightgown made of the lightest cotton, and it stopped right above her bare tanned thigh as she twisted her head around, waking up as soon as the bright lights hit her face.

She blinked a few times, her long dark eyelashes fluttering over her chocolate brown eyes until she sat up, trying to clear her vision from the fog that was created by a deep sleep.  
Once she was able to focus on the room without feeling dizzy, she stood up, letting her dress fall loosely around her legs as she grabbed more appropriate attire for the day and disappeared into the washroom to get changed and ready for the days events.

Once she was done, she gazed outside her bedroom window, watching her elderly father make his way up the hill on their property. The young girl briefly wondered if he was helping her to do her chores, but as he entered the small temple that stood on the hill, she realised he wasn't. She let out an exaggerated sigh, and walked out of her room and into the main house. Her mum and abuela, her father's mother, stood around, busying themselves with household chores such as cleaning or dishes.

It was a simple life, but it was theirs.

"Hermano menor!" her light and husky voice echoed throughout the house. She scanned the recently cleaned living area but there was no sign of the dog that was hers.

"Santana, no yelling inside the house. It isn't lady-like," her mother, who was almost the spitting image, albeit older, version of her, rounded walked around the nearest corner of the house, her dark brown gown sashaying around her ankles as she swept into view.

Santana narrowed her eyes and made a face at her mother's back as she disappeared around another corner.

Santana was a mere seventeen years old. She had no interest in becoming a 'lady' and she sure as hell did not have any interest in being matched off to some completely random man that she would have to bear children for. Heck, she knew all the men in this town and every single one of them made her nose wrinkle in disgust.

They were all vile creatures. If her family wasn't so great, she'd have wished that she were someone else, or maybe, that she had been born a male.

It seemed unfair for her that men seemed to make all the decisions in this country. She knew she was smarter than all the men in this town combined, and also more talented, but because she was a _girl, _she was rendered basically useless. Her only use being to create more men. She rolled her eyes again at the thought and then internally cringed as she realised that today was _the _day.

The day of the Matchmaker.

A white dog finally rounded the same corner that Santana's mother had came from. His paws were dirty and Santana knew that her mother was definitely not going to be happy, but she could worry about that later. The dog brushed his body against Santana's bare legs and she bent down to ruffle his fur. The dog yapped excitedly as Santana cooed his name. His tail was wagging so fast that Santana could barely see it.

"You can help me with today's chores," she told him. "Because today is _such _an important day for me."

The dog did not sense her sarcasm and so he bounced around some more after hearing his mistresses voice. Santana smiled at him fondly and the thought of leaving him, and the rest of her family behind for some complete random man pained her. She wondered if there was any way to get out of it but she knew there wasn't. She'd just have to stop being a brat and suck it up, she supposed.

Santana found the sack of grain and tied it around the dog collar, as well as a bone that dangled in front of his nose, just slightly out of his reach. He smelled it and began to lunge at it in anticipation as Santana slit a hole in the sack. She opened the back door for him, making sure that no-one could see how she was 'cheating' with her chores and let him run out, the grain pouring from the sack and in front of the chickens.

Santana's lips curved into a smile until she heard her abuela call. "Santana, time to leave!"

In the small blue and white painted tower that stood erect on the hill, Arnaldo Lopez gently reached out to the gold plated dragon statue that hung from the ceiling, almost snake-like in stature, and placed an incense on the golden plate of which it rested. His back ached as he lowered himself onto one knee with the help of his trust wooden cane, a thank you gift after he retired from his medicinal duties, and bowed his head to the tombstones of his ancestors before him, placing his cane to the side and his hands flat against the ground in front of him.

"Honourable ancestors, please help Santana impress The Matchmaker today."

Sadness clouted his gaze. Arnaldo was a spectacular father to his only daughter. Whilst his friends and neighbours prayed every night for the conception and birth of a baby boy to grace their lives, Arnaldo merely only prayed for his wife and future child to have a safe and welcoming delivery into this world, and when his wife had told him that their baby was a girl, he could have not been more enthused and proud to call himself her father.

The small family dog suddenly ran in spastically, as he knew not of the respect one must have in front of the dead. He barked repeatedly as he ran in little circles, spilling grain everywhere. Arnaldo watched him run back out again, only to have his presence graced by several clucking chickens instead.

The madness that had suddenly begun in the small tower began to feel like a foreshadowing of disaster to the poor old man, so he clasped his hands together tightly and spoke once again in prayer. "Please, please help her."

"Father?"

Arnaldo turned around and saw his daughter. He knew he must send her on her way; she was probably late, because she was Santana, but as she stood underneath the sun's shining glare, he marvelled at just how perfect she was, and he hoped that the Matchmaker would set her up with someone that was worthy of her, someone that deserved her love and treated her right after she left this place.

"You're going to be late," he told her softly. Were those tears brimming in her eyes? Santana was still very much a child. "You better go."

"Yes, Father."

"Bring honour to our family, do not forget, Santana."

* * *

Santana opened the heavy iron gate that guarded their property and squeezed herself out of the small gap, making sure that the dog didn't follow her out otherwise she would get a scolding from her father. She walked slowly along the dusty road and hoped that whatever happened next, wouldn't end up being the end of her life.

She wondered if there was any more to life than what had been described, but as she walked closer and closer into town, she knew that she would probably never find out.

She stopped outside the house that she knew would help her get ready for the Matchmaker, and she hesitated briefly before she lifted her tired hand up to knock on the door. The door opened almost instantly and a woman that Santana had known all her life, Emma, dragged her in. But since today was different, Santana looked at Emma differently. This woman was supposed to help her look presentable, she was no longer on Santana's side.

Santana stripped out of what little clothes she had on and carefully lifted one foot into the tub of water. She yelped and drew it back instantly when the coldness came into contact with her skin. "It's cold," she knew she sounded childish but she couldn't help it.

"It would've been warm if you came on time," Emma scolded her in response, pushing on Santana's bare back lightly until she was forced to go back into the tub. Santana braced herself and cringed as she sank her body into the heat-faded water. She winced as her abuela assisted Emma by dumping a bucket of water on Santana's head. It was cold too, and she began to shiver as the droplets of water fell down her face and onto her shoulders.

A few minutes later Santana hoisted herself up out of the tub, grateful to get out although her body had adjusted to the extreme temperature, and a few other women started drying her with fluffy white towels. Santana tensed her body as they began to touch her in places only she should be touching and she gritted her teeth together. She hated people touching her.

The torture wasn't over for Santana yet. After she had been dried, they wrapped her tightly in all types of garments that felt itchy against Santana's skin, though the fabric was too tough for Santana to actually scratch through it. She eventually sighed and decided to give up; resigning herself to her fate all too soon.

Layer upon layer of makeup was then applied onto Santana's face. She cringed as she felt the liquid ooze into her pores and she tried her hardest not to cry when the mascara touched the very tip of her eyelid, causing her to blink rapidly against the shining light of the sun.

What seemed like an eternity later, she was finally ushered outside. Santana ignored her mother's cries of, 'you're late, so late!' and quickly got into line behind four other girls, who seemed to be chanting something. Santana mumbled random words under her breath, mostly curse words, so quietly so that no-one could hear so she looked like she fit in.

The other townspeople left their houses; Santana had grown up with these people all her life, but like Emma they seemed like strangers as they joined in the chanting towards her doom. She eyed them all warily until she finally stood outside a large temple, where a large and rather unpleasing to the eye woman came out and stared at the five girls critically, as if she were judging them on everything from their faces to their toes.

The other girls seemed to take it well, Santana noticed, as she side-glanced them, but she couldn't help but feel uncomfortable under the gaze of the large woman.

"Please bring honour to us all!" all of the girls, except one, chanted.

* * *

_"Brett! Brett! Where are you?" a very tall, lithe blonde girl roamed through the hallways of her extravagant home. She passed her mother, whom was kneeling on the ground in the prayer room, and several maids who were busying themselves in the kitchen, chopping up vegetables and boiling meat._

_She walked quickly barefoot, as she knew if she were found without shoes she would get in trouble. It took her one entire hour to roam the house, and there was no sign of her brother anywhere. She shrugged on her brother's large jacket and pants, much warmer than anything she owned, and opened the door outside. If anyone saw her, she could have been easily mistaken for her brother. The only tell-tale sign that she was a female was her long blonde hair that fell down to her waist._

_The falling snowflakes touched her face as if they were embracing her and she sucked in a deep breath of air before she continued onwards. After awhile of searching, she found that her brother was nowhere in the towns vicinity, and though it was forbidden for her to leave the walls, she too knew her twin brother would only do so if there was no risk._

_The journey up the mountain was a hard one, but it was the only one that Brittany knew where to go, and it was the only place for her brother to have gone to made any sense. The Pierce family owned a small temple up yonder deep in the forest that they used to frequent when their country wasn't at war and the forest had been deemed a safe place. It used to be Brett's favourite place, so it made sense to Brittany that he would be there at a time like this, on the brink of war and destruction._

_She looked up at the temple, drenched in snow and almost unrecognisable. When was the last time she had been here? She searched through her memory but could not remember. She dug through a few inches of snow in order to be able to free the door, and it only occurred to her after she opened the temple door, that her brother could not possibly be inside otherwise there would have been no snow build up at the entrance._

_She nodded once and muttered a quick prayer, her eyes shut and her hands clenched together before leaving. She headed back out, at a sudden loss of what to do, or where to go. Should she leave the search for her brother to more capable people? Perhaps he was back in town and she had somehow missed him. A shiver ran through her body as she suddenly acknowledged the danger she was in. She scolded herself mentally and began to head back down the hill, taking a different path in the hopes of it being shorter._

_She walked slowly as the snowstorm began to brew a much more vicious storm as it had before. She placed one foot delicately in front of the other before her right foot caught on what must have been a fallen branch and she slipped down into place. A small scream escaped her lips as she felt her entire body being sucked under the snow, and she gasped as she began to slide down the hill._

_She eventually stopped and managed to pick herself up, shuddering because the snow had seeped managed to seep through the thick coat. She brushed it down, watching clear drops of liquid fall into the snow, when suddenly they were not liquid anymore._

_Her gaze followed a small river of red that trickled through the snow and she eventually met with a body so familiar, that if it were female, she would claim it as her own._

_She tried to scream, to speak, but she could not. In front of her was the body of her slain brother. His lofty blonde hair fell unevenly over his face, covering bruise marks and gashes that had been made on the skin that was almost as pale as the snow. Her hand flung up towards her mouth and she bit down heavily on it in grief, feeling her own teeth pierce her skin._

_His body lay in an awkward position as it began to disappear slowly in the snow. His arm looked like it had been broken in three different places and a large gash in his chest revealed where the river of red was running from. Brittany managed to compose herself and she dared herself to go closer to him until she was touching him. A small feather, one off that of a hawk, fell to the ground as she held her hand to his skin._

_"Brett!" she suddenly wailed, uncaring if whoever had murdered him, the Huns, were around. They could slay her too. What else did she have to live for? Her father, the General, would just marry her off to some random man after this war was over. If they survived the war, that was. Her mother would just agree and Brittany would be forced into a life with someone she probably did not love. What kind of a life was that? She knew she was silly, believing the stories of love that sometimes grandparents told their grandchildren, but it was the only hope she had in this bleak world._

_Her brother, too, had made everything better. He was the light in their life. When they were younger, they used to pretend they were the other. Brittany always preferred to play with the boys rather than the girls, sometime their mother heavily disapproved of. But with a wink, her brother was always there to support her, and sometimes, tease her too, in a friendly sibling manner._

_He was her knight in shining armour, the one who would always be there for her._

_Now he was gone. Brittany's fists clenched angrily. Any grievance she had was very quickly replaced with rage. She would slay them. The Huns. She would slay all of them. They would be begging for her mercy before the year was over. They would wish they had never ever messed with her family, her life._

_She took a step back, watching the snow covered the remainder of her brother. His sword lay in his unclenched hand and she picked it up, holding it against her neck. With one swift movement, all her long blonde hair fell to the ground and she was Brittany no more._

* * *

AN: hermano menor is 'little brother' in Spanish (according to Google anyway) since in the Disney version Mulan calls the dog 'little brother.' I intend to base mostly the start of this on Disney's Mulan with the exception of Brittany of course, though it will end up taking a different direction, and of course the characterisation will be _very _different.

Thanks for reading!


	2. And What We Will Do

_The trudge back to the village seemed longer on the way back, but Brittany eventually managed to make it back. She opened the wicker gate that led to the main house and walked slowly along the path to the front door._

_Her mother was outside. She held three red peonies in her hand._

_"Brett," she greeted. Brittany didn't reply. Instead, she just tilted her head slightly to acknowledge that she had heard her._

_"Your father is in the town hall. He wishes to speak to you," her mother craned her neck, trying to get a better glimpse of the son that she was so terribly proud of. When she had found out she was having twins, and that the first one had been a boy, she had never been more overyjoyed._

_Two sons. It was as if the family were more blessed than she had originally thought._

_But the second one had been a girl, and that wasn't had her or her husband, Davido, had been expecting. She had neglected Brittany in her younger years and so now Brittany could not bring herself to feel any comfort towards this woman._

_So she turned her face away._

_"I'll be right there," she said coldly. She tried to deepen her voice but she wasn't sure that it sounded anything like her brothers. She didn't know how she intended to get away with it when she confronted their father, but it was the least she could do for her brother. She'd kill the people who killed him. She'd get revenge._

_"Brett?"_

_Brittany had already turned away._  
_"What?"_

_"I love you."_

_Three words of endearment. The only significant thing, the only way they meant anything to Brittany were the somewhat not so subtle undertone that her mother was also saying goodbye._

_And suddenly, she knew why her father wanted to see 'Brett.' She wanted this, she did. She wanted to join the army and go to war, but she did not know it would be so soon. Perhaps that's why her brother had been outside the fence, in the forest. Perhaps he had been training._

_Or perhaps he had tried to run away, to escape the brutalities and intricities that war brought with it. The pain, and the death._

_Just perhaps._

_"Goodbye," she said in reply. She didn't look back at her mother. She didn't look back at her house._

_Her goodbye wasn't just to her mother, it was to their housekeepers who had raised her, her tutors who had tried so hard to make her an educated lady but just couldn't because their words could not possibly sink into her head._

_Her goodbye was to their house, where she had grown up, where she had fought her brother in the backyard as children with sticks that had fallen off the giant trees that sheltered their estate._

Her goodbye was to the birds in the trees that sang along with her when she sang herself to sleep at night.

_Her goodbye was to everything here that she knew she would not see again._

* * *

_"It's good to see you again, Brett."_

_A man dressed in all white stood in front of her. They were roughly about the same height, perhaps Brittany was slightly taller._

_"You too," Brittany replied cautiously. Her wool-lined hood still covered most of her face, only her cheek and her eye visible. Her thin lips parted slightly as they adjusted to the difference in room temperature._

_She had no idea who this man was. He had not introduced himself and he wore no name badge. But if he had seen Brett before, then it meant that Brittany must play along._

_"You have just missed your father."_

_So many double meanings. When was the last time she had actually seen her father? She had been nothing but a burden to the family once they realised she was not going to become a scholar._

_She missed the man that her father was supposed to be, who he could have been, if she had just been different._

_"But he was the one who called for me here."_

_"I am aware. Unfortunately he could not stay a minute longer. Duty called."_

_"I see. So is my attendance here still required or may I make my departure back home?"_

_"Did your mother not tell you? Your attendance is required to join the army. You are departing today in precisely one hour. Clothes and the like will be given to you upon arrival to base."_

_Brittany paused. She had been expecting to be forced to join the army once her father had called for 'her' but she did not realise she would have to depart so soon._

_Her jacket was bulky, it hid her breasts, but they would require her to take it off at some point. What would they do to her then? Kill her? Or jail her because she was the generals daughter, after all?__  
_

_Which one would leave her with more dignity?_

_"I see. Is there a spare room here where I can prepare?"_

_"Prepare for?"_

_Brittany wished she knew who this man was._

_"To prepare myself," she pursed her lips. The man nodded. He had curly hair that was slightly irritating Brittany._

_"You can take the room to your left."_

* * *

"_Incompetent!"_

The word rang through Santana's ears and it made her flinch. Her small rough hands were anxiously clutching a merle blue and white china mug filled to the brim with tea. Underneath it, was a small pool of liquid that had spilled out of it just a few seconds prior.

"It was an accident!"

Santana had meant to sound mournful, to be apologetic and, well, respectful, but instead her words came out annoyed and loud.

"Excuse you?"

The matchmaker -Santana never bothered to learn her name- turned around and stared at Santana, making Santana's belly stir with the look that she gave her.

"I said it was an accident, I didn't mean too," Santana murmured under her breath, her tone taking a more gentle and polite approach this time around.

"Now you're mumbling under your breath! I hate to tell you this, young lady," she scoffed at the last few words, and she did not sound the least bit apologetic.

Her words came out harsh and salty. Santana wondered if the matchmaker had ever matchmaked herself successfully. She doubted it.  
"But the chances of you ever finding a husband are very low."

Santana knew those few words should hit her harder than if she had been slapped very hard, but for some reason it didn't. She knew her parents were going to be beyond disappointed.

She knew the people in the town would gossip and bitch behind her families backs, but she kept her head held high with the thought of maybe doing something more with her life than becoming a wife.

"Good," was her much-too-arrogant reply. She stood up from the chair, forcing it back with a screeching sound that forced the matchmaker to cover her ears. She shot her one final look before she disappeared from the room.

* * *

"Santana, we are very disappointed in you."

It was her mother's voice, and Santana knew she should feel bad but she couldn't. She did however, avoid her father's eye contact. She felt guilty with letting him down. He loved her so much and she had screwed it up. She shifted nervously. Her father hadn't said anything to her since she had come back. She wondered if he'd disown her. She had brought shame to him, she knew it.

A loud noise interrupted any further conversation. It was the sound of trumpets, and the heavy sound of horses hooves suddenly engulfed Santana's hearing as she trotted down the stairs after her mother and father as they headed towards their front gate.

Her father went to open the heavy iron gates, but he began to shake as he did so. Santana had never noticed how frail he had suddenly become and she began to feel worried as the notion of war seemed to be approaching.

She rested a small hand on his shoulder and then stood behind him, her youthfulness making her strong enough to pull the gate back without her father's help.

He gave her the slightest nod in thanks, making Santana feel a rush of relief flow through her, and then with the assistance of his cane and Santana's mother, he walked up to the six men who had just ridden in on horses.

"We are here," a man in white with curly brown hair rode on the black horse in front. "To collect our recruits for the war."  
Santana's heart suddenly sank.

She knew what this meant. Her father was too old though, surely they'd skip her family this time around. Surely no one expected her frail father to be any use in the war?

"The Berry family. The Cohen-Chang family. The Rose family. The Lopez family."

"What?"

Santana couldn't help the one words escape from her lips in an outraged tone. Her father yanked her back with a strength that he hadn't had before when the man in white swung his gaze to her, and then to her father.

"You'd do well to keep your _daughter _under control."

Santana's gaze swung to Rachel Berry, who was clinging onto both of her fathers as they looked doubtfully at each other. If it was only one male from each family, which one would go? She had never particularly liked Rachel but her heart went out with her for this one.

"You can't expect him to-" she continued when her mother pushed her roughly back into the confines of their estate. She followed Santana through and shut the iron gates, blocking her view from the commotion outside.

"Mother, what the-"

"Santana! You're lucky they didn't have your head for that. Do you think before you speak, ever?"

"Mother, they want father to fight in their war! He won't make it. You know that, and I do too."

Tears sprung to Santana's mothers eyes as she nodded. "I do," she whispered. "But you need to have hope."

"No, we need to stop them," she said, heading back towards the gate but her mother grabbed her shoulders and kept her back.

"Santana. No. They will have your head if you have another outburst again. And they will treat your father terribly if they think he cannot control his daughter back home. You understand that, right?"

"Yeah," Santana's shoulders slumped and her mother took her in her grasp.

"You need to pray for him, Santana. It is all we can do."

* * *

Santana knew that praying wasn't going to do anything. Praying wouldn't stop her father leaving. Praying wouldn't stop the war that was happening. Praying wasn't going to bring her father back should something happen to him.

And Santana was not one for doing something that would not hold a result.

She sprang up from her bed. The small white dog that slept on a wicker basket next to her bed looked up at her, blinking his brown eyes as she moved around her room. She kissed his muzzle in a farewell departure as she grabbed the hem of her white nightgown and flung it over her head.

She walked silently from her room, tip-toeing to ensure she wouldn't wake anyone. The pads of her bare feet hit the silent concrete as she walked outside to a storage barn that hadn't been touched in years. A heavy iron door guarded it and Santana did the best she could to make sure that it did not slam after her.

A heavy black suit with a red ribbon hung up there. A sword hung next to it on the wall, which chilled Santana's heart to the bone. She wondered how much flesh that sword has pierced in its lifetime.

There was a first-aid kit in the corner which Santana used to bind her chest. She then slipped on the suit, feeling her heart grow heavy as she tied the ribbon tightly around her hips and her collar. There was an empty sword pocket on her side hip and she lifted the sword from its holder.

She lifted her left hand and clumped her hair up as if she were going to tie it into a ponytail. All the people in the village always spoke about how beautiful her silk-like hair was, and how envious they were of it.

And in one swift motion, it was all gone.

* * *

**AN: Sorry if this chapter was short and that it took a long time to publish :) The intros are going to be short but once the two meet I'll get right back into it with long plentiful chapters. Thank you for waiting a long time and thank you to those who reviewed/favourited and followed! Thank you again!**


	3. For The Ones We Love

**AN: Updating from an airport with slow Wi-Fi is always fun, haha! (I was/am still terribly jetlagged when I wrote this so forgive me.)**

**Anyway, sorry again for the long update time :( I've been incredibly busy over the holiday period and I will be for the next two months, but I promise to update as soon as I can!**

**Thank you guys for all your support, and a special thank you to Vicki, whose review I can't reply too, since you gave me the motivation needed to finish this chapter.**

**I was also reluctant to update because I had no specific ideas as to where I wanted the story to go, but now I've found a muse so it will be able to progress a lot faster.**

**I do regret to say though, that it will probably not take a 'Mulan' route anymore. So I'm sorry to those who hoped it would turn out like that.**

**P.S - I changed the fic name to 'Beyond The Fence' because 'Warrior Within' wasn't working with me for some reason. Sorry for the inconvenience and confusion, but this name is going to stick.**

* * *

_"Do we all know why we are here?" Brittany's father's voice boomed over the hundreds and hundreds of men, as if they were nothing but ants and he was a giant boot. Brittany shuddered at the mere thought of what he would do to her if he found out that she was here; or that her precious brother had been slain._

_"Yes," everybody chorused back, almost in a demonic chant. The hundreds of men stood packed in a tight bunch. Brittany had never been claustrophobic, but she was feeling it now. She felt that if she got too close to someone they would realise she wasn't a boy; that she wasn't her brother._  
_'Yes.'_  
_The one simple word made Brittany's ears sting. It wasn't the smartest question, in a sense. After all, why would you be on this side if you didn't know who the enemy was? Who you had to brutally slay just to win back a piece of land and peace of mind?_

_The stories between the battle of the East and West were drilled into her mind ever since birth. How the East had taken a crucial and historic piece of land from the West and how they had been at war ever since. It was silly, in Brittany's mind, but nonetheless it wasn't her decision. As a girl, she wasn't even rendered to have an opinion about it, really._

_Her brother and her used to re-enact out their own war when they were kids. Brittany would always be the East, and her brother the West. Their father would usually interrupt their childish games and tell them that one day, Brett really would be fighting for the West, and if she was lucky enough, Brittany would marry one of the finest warriors who returned._

_Brittany never liked the thought of her brother going off to war, but now she wondered if he would have been better off in the camp here than out wherever he was, and whatever he was doing, when he was slain._

_None of it made sense to Brittany, and she wasn't sure that it ever would._

_Brittany shared a small tent with three other men. They were as young as she was, and at first they had all been friendly, if a little hesitant, as they could have possibly been towards her in their situation._

_And then it had been made publicly known that 'Brett,' the General's much to-be-admired son, had finally joined the ranks. Men scoured to find out who he was, so Brittany made sure that she was always joining new activites, new training sessions, so that she made no friends and that nobody could keep track of her location._

_It was a lonely week. She knew her father was looking for the son that he had always hoped to train, and an utterly exhausting amount of effort went in to making sure that he never found her._

_Deep down she knew that one day he would see her. One day he would know. But all she needed to do now in her life was avenge the brother that she had once had._

_If she managed to complete that successfully, then she would have a peace of mind with whatever would happen to her later, whether it be death._

_Or worse._

* * *

_"Pierce? Schuester wants you to see if you can seek out one of the East's camps. Word has it that they set up one a few kilometres away from here. Risky move if you ask me, Brett, but we all know who's going to win anyway."_

_Brittany looked up to see Sam, one of the men who slept in one of the tents a few over, standing in the doorway of hers. She hastily shifted herself around so that the light did not shine directly on her face. You could never be too careful._

_"Did you hear me?"_

_Sam was one of the men Brittany could tolerate. He did not give her strange and curious looks like the others did, or glare at her because the higher ranks seemed to look upon her favourably. Instead, he usually just boasted about the days activities, or how they were definitely going to win, which were only a mild annoyance to Brittany compared to what everybody else talked about._

_"Yeah. Did I need to bring anyone with me?"_

_"No, you're meant to be undercover. Schuester suggested not wearing uniform, but it's not like we have any other clothes here. So just keep on the down low. Don't infiltrate the camp if you find it, just come straight back here and report to your father. Got it?"_

_Brittany felt a chill go down her spine at the mention of her father. She glanced down at her body, at the heavy and ugly khaki green gear that she wore, with the distinguishing red belt tied loosely around her waist. The red belt signified that she was a warrior, a soldier, defending the East. It earned respect during visits to the villiage, and it warned off potential threats, but Brittany didn't like it. It was the colour of blood, and though she was actively seeking revenge, she wasn't particularly sure how she was going to go about it._

_"When shall I leave?"_

_"As soon as possible, I have been instructed. Schuester also told me to tell you to report to your father before you leave. He says he has not seen you in all the time you have been here? Is that true?"_

_Brittany narrowed her eyes, clearing her throat so she was able to use the deeper voice that she had almost perfected._

_"I feel like it is none of your business, Evans. But I will take my leave now."_

_She turned away, so that Sam couldn't see her blush at her own lie. She had no intention of finding her father. Why would she actively seek her punishment? She had no intention of reporting back to him whether she found the camp or not. She would find out what happened to her brother, and then she would decide what to do later when she had the information._

* * *

_She had been riding for almost forty five minutes, and she knew that it was nowhere near enough as long to be able to find the enemies camp. She had no idea why would they set themselves up so close to them. Perhaps they were planning an attack?_

_She narrowed her eyes, hoping that it did not come to that. She did not want an entire war to start, and most of all, she did not want to be at the centre of it. She found herself wishing that she had never gone out that evening many weeks ago, and that she had never found her brother, never seen the horrifics that had happened to him, and then had never been so obsessed with revenge._

_She wished she were at home. Cleaning the floors hours on end was a lot better than any of the chores that she had been instructed to do her. She worked tirelessly the many hours she was up. She wasn't even allowed to hum whilst she worked, either, let alone sing._

_It was a lonely, lonely time._

_She was definitely beginning to regret her choice._

_She heard the rushing of a river and she quickly halted the horse to a walk. A camp would have to be somewhere near a river. Their camp was near a large lake, so it would make sense for the East's to be near this river._

_She jumped off the horse, giving herself a silent pat on the back for her deductive skills. Her parents never praised her, and in turn she neglected her studies. By figuring that out, Brittany wondered if she was at least slightly smart after all._

_It was silent, except for a few insects buzzing. A loud slurping sound quickly snapped Brittany out of the tranquility that she had allowed herself to indulge in, and she spotted a horse, black as night, untethered, drinking from a stream._

_She briefly wondered if one of the East's horses had gotten loose, because this horse was saddled up with one of the finest leather parts that Brittany had seen. But there had been no news of a missing or a stolen horse, so it must have come from a village._

_Or it could be an enemies horse. Almost as if the world had read her mind, a figure in the distance came into view._

_Brittany clutched hesitantly at the back of her leg for her knife. If the person here was a threat, she would have to defend herself didn't she?_

_Her hand twisted around the knife and she felt a slight comfort knowing that it was there. But then she realised, sure, she had a knife, but did she know how to use it?_

_She found herself wishing that she had paid attention to the classes where they instructed proper knife use._

_She drew closer, using the shrubs to shield herself from the person, when suddenly she sucked in a large breath of air once her eyes took in the entirety of the figure lying by the riverside._

* * *

The only sound that was rushing into Santana's rather sensitive ears was the gushing of the river that ran by the path. The path that had just seemed to conveniently end.

"We're freaking lost," Santana murmured to Stryder, the Lopez's black stallion. He whinnied lowly in response and then looked at the river, his eyes glinting.

"Thirsty, huh?" Santana wondered if she was losing her mind. She kept asking the horse questions as if she expected him to respond.

"Alright, here we go." She slung herself from the saddle and led the horse to the river, trusting him enough not to run off if she didn't tie him up.

She slumped against a thick tree trunk that stood facing the river. She clutched a map in her right hand, but her father had never taught her how to read one. She had been walking in one direction, which seemed to be right, but the path had seemed never ending and she hadn't seen a human in days.

She needed to hurry, because she knew if she didn't, the authorities would come back for her father and all her hard work would be for absolutely nothing.

She wondered about her parents. Wondered how furious they would be. How their already rebellious daughter seemed to manage to cross a line that they didn't even know existed. She sighed. She just wanted to do right by them, to save her father's life. But if she was being honest, she had no idea what she was doing now. What if she didn't even make it to camp?

* * *

_She was the prettiest girl that Brittany had ever seen._

_Her hair, cut primly just above the shoulder, in an almost boyish way, was sleek and black. Brittany had never had the urge to ever reach out and touch someone's hair before, but now she did. She was sure that it would feel exactly like the silk that her mother's best dresses were made out of it, smooth and lithe in her own thin hands._

_Her body was thin, but not in the sickly way that possessed many of the people in Brittany's town and yonder. It seemed to just be naturally slim, and Brittany had never seen someone's skin glow so wonderfully. It looked so smooth. Brittany longed to reach out and touch her cheek, to see if the warm blush that covered her face was as hot as she thought it would be._

_But what attracted Brittany to her most was her face. She had a curved nose, that was currently inhaling and exhaling air at a rather dangerous pace. Her cheeks were rosy with either the cold or an embarassment that Brittany would never know, and her eyes, the colour of the chocolate that Brittany was only ever allowed on special occasions, sparkled, as the stranger took in the unfamiliar landscape that surrounded her._

_She was perfect, and surely it wasn't her fault that she had to suddenly let out the breath that she hadn't known she had been holding, was it?_

* * *

An unnerving feeling took over Santana, almost as if she were being watched. Her eyes darted curiously to Stryder, who was still drinking from the stream to her left, and she visibly relaxed as the horse turned back to look at her as she shifted her position in the uncomfortable grass.

And just as she let out the breath she had just sucked in, she heard someone else let theirs go.

"Who's there?" she whipped her head around angrily, completely forgetting any false pretences of masculinity in her fear. What if it was someone from the West? Would she be ended before she had even begun?

Santana may have missed the person if she had not heard them prior. They were mostly hidden by the shrub that she had kicked earlier, out of anger for being lost, though their face peered out from behind one of the thick tree branches.

Fear shot through her once more as she realised that there was another person there. She instinctively moved her hand up to cover her chest, as she had removed the binds earlier because they were constricting her breathing.

"Don't."

The voice was oddly gentle and Santana almost immediately relaxed at the sound. Her eyes widened slightly as the figure stepped out into plain view, their arms in the air, though hesitantly, to show that they were no danger.

And Santana suddenly knew what everyone was talking about when they mentioned the word 'attraction.' She was drawn to this person, who she knew nothing about, not even their name. She felt like she was one half of a magnet, a strong pull was luring her towards the warrior, who stood in front of her, his body erect, his jaw gaunt and stuck out in an almost comical manner. He was so unlike any other soldier, or any other person, that Santana had ever come across.

And it rendered her speechless.

"What's your name?"

His voice was strange. Rough, almost, though somehow gentle at the same time. Santana wondered how that was even possible. He reminded her of when she used to play with the boys in her neighbourhood when she was younger, when they tried so hard to be men but the only thing she was able to hear were their squeaky voices.

Santana's eyes flickered over the strange man curiously. He was young, maybe even the same age as her. So he was not a man, only merely a boy. She suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for him. Was he scared to be out here on his lonesome? Did he know just how lost she felt as well? Was that why he was talking to her?

He looked back at her expectantly, his blue eyes reflecting the clear water over younger. Santana had never seen such a colour before, if not in the morning skies. It amazed her.

And then she saw it.

The red ribbon that was tied around his thin waist.

The red ribbon that signified that he was a soldier from the West.

Santana's enemy.

She swallowed thickly in fear. Was this niceness all just a pretense? Did he really have a sword stuck in his belt in a view where Santana was not able to see? Her cover was long blown, her chest unconcealed, her face puffy and her lashes thick from the cold. She was nothing more than a simple woman to this soldier who stood so elegant and unabashedly ashamed of his status in front of her.

But if the soldier thought that Santana was from the West then he made no show of it. He cocked his head slightly out of confusion and then once more repeated the question. Perhaps he thought that she did not speak English.

"What is your name?"

Once again, Santana was in no hurry to reply. She stood up and dusted herself down. Her eyes drifted back to Stryder, who was kneeling on the river bank. Her sword was tucked into her saddle.

If he was from the West and she managed to survive this encounter with him, there was no way her cover would be blown. If this encounter did not resolve in death for either one of them, then their next encounter would. She would not see this young warrior in front of her again until the battle.

The battle.

She found herself suddenly unwilling to think about the battle, even though for the past few weeks that was all that plagued her thoughts. She had found herself almost keen for it, keen to show the world what she could do. Keen for her father to finally be proud of her.

To bring honour to her family.

But the battle now meant that she would have to face this boy in battle, and she found herself suddenly wanting to turn around and head home.

"Santana."

When she was younger, her father used to tell her stories of the West and the East, two parts of the same country divided. How the West overran their land. How they fought back. How the war seemed never-ending and futile.

"My name's Brett."

Santana hadn't asked, and she was almost struck stupor by his willingness to give out such personal information. She narrowed her eyes, wondering what his aim was.


End file.
